The Ramblings of Mental Illness in the Modern World

Today is yet another day where I get to hear through the ever thinning walls of our house how I’ve fucked something up, how I’m stupid, an idiot, a bitch, or whatever expletive you wish to imagine for having others blame me for everything wrong in their lives.

I wake up early, I’m in the way, too loud, too grumpy. I wake up late I’m a lazy bum, worthless, waste my days. Same deal with chores, I do them and it’s hearing how much I waste water, or energy, or detergent. I don’t do them they never get done; “I had a long day, I don’t want to come home and clean,” “I don’t want the laundry running when I get home,” “I don’t want your laundry running when I want to do mine,” “I can’t do the laundry cause the stairs hurt”.

I do nothing and I’m at fault for adding to other people’s workload. I do something and I never ‘do it right’. I’m tired of the double standards and the fact that even when I try I’m never enough for anyone.

I guess today I’m just off-put that my mom and brother insist on putting mushrooms in one half of a lasagna. Then neither of them want to eat their share of the leftovers. They know I won’t touch the mushroom side, but I’ll happily have the rest. Seems like a simple enough solution right? Yet mushrooms keep going in half the thing. So now, even though I goddamn like lasagna, can make it alone, and we don’t even have it that often, it’s still all my fault, and added to the list of things my brother will throw a hissy fit over.

“The past week has been stressful and all-around unpleasant for me. I know what I need for myself, for my business, but time and circumstances are preventing me from doing what I need to.

I know boundaries are important to who I am, I know my boundaries lie close to myself. I live a large portion of my life behind a closed door, both literally and figuratively. But unfortunately that door, and the room it closes, are not soundproof. Behind my literal door, I can only feel as safe when that space is respected. Unfortunately it’s literally the only room in the house which I can make my own, or even leave things in without my privacy being violated. And even then; I know my mom goes in whenever she damn well pleases if she thinks I’m not home. Hell, she’s walked in without so much as a knock when I am in there. Whenever she does I lose all sense of safety. I need to know exactly what might have been seen, moved, exposed. I need to know any of those possibilities that alarm me are hidden in the future, or at least until I feel safe leaving them unguarded, which means the cycle starts all over again.

Another of my boundaries is phone calls. I’m not a chatty person, I like to think through the purpose behind the words I’m saying, retain control over the interaction. Phone calls don’t allow that; I want them over before they even start. I don’t like paying for them, I don’t like responding to them, I don’t like the anxiety of a voicemail that winds up being blank because people don’t hang up in the 60 seconds before the beep. I don’t like phone calls.

This last week a family member has needed babying in regards to a job I’m doing for her, over 55 minutes of phone calls, that’s $8 for those playing along at home. To earn minimum wage for that wasted time I’d need to send her a $20 invoice. In an average month of calls I initiate I spend maybe $2. Often $0. I’m pretty sure said individual tried calling again tonight; too bad for her, the $0 balance and blank voicemail mean I can’t identify who actually called, nor respond appropriately. Too bad for her as well in the next 5 days should she actually need something. My phone ain’t getting topped up till the first of the month.

I’m dreading tomorrow, it’s another ‘workday’ on that project. I already know it will be 10 minutes of work per 50 minutes of repeating myself, and 3+ hours of wasted time going through the formalities (driving, coffee, etc). I’ll be timing how much work actually gets done; because I’ve had to push other projects back to meet with this person weekly. 10 minutes of work in 5 hours is NOT something I can continue doing and stay sane. In all honesty I don’t want to go, but I want it to be done with. I can’t do this for another 6 months.

Get it done, get it signed, get it over with.”

I never got around to actually posting it, seems to be a habit I have on here already, the window’s been open in the background of my computer just sitting there. Anyways, things are looking up at the moment, projects coming to a close, people settling back into routines, procrastinating my work with a deadline in less that 2 hours, same old same old.

Let me start this off by detailing what I scribbled out on may notebook an hour or two ago:

Mommy being home today really fucked with me. The fact that I spilled my coffee didn’t help either and the cherry on top was that I had Tiss’ Will in the line of fire and I couldn’t even get to a roll of paper towels. I’m at Tim’s now and calmer, but I am NOT looking forward to do any of what needs to be done when I get home. I can’t even really do anything while I’m here because I couldn’t figure out what I would need to bring, or hadn’t finished the prep on what I actually wanted to do. I just need more than 1 day a week with neither of them there. It’s been 6 days! 6, and I only got 1 before that. I need a space! I can’t keep doing this. I was about 2% from self harming today, but I couldn’t even do that right; nowhere to sit and do it, let alone something to use for the blood. I’m still shaking now but I’m off that edge. My handwriting has slipped a lot on this page eh?

I actually felt mostly good today, except that my morning routine was interrupted by my mother, pants less may I add, hovering in the kitchen when I wanted to make my first cup of coffee. She had to take today off for medical appointments, I get that, I think it just culminated to be the worst possible timing with the past weekend starting with a PA Day (she’s a teacher, so this meant she got home mid-afternoon; or in the middle of my workday), me working with my great-aunt on unnecessary updates to her Will that she’s decided are the most urgent thing in the world, and my brother off for 4 days in a row, and my mom having Monday off for a holiday. After 5 days of guarding what I do and say, not blasting music, or having to be tied to headphones when I needed to, not even having a quiet house when I do try and sleep at decent hour, I was on my last thread; so having my Mom home talking to herself at 2pm when I spilled the aforementioned cup of coffee on things I was not prepared to spill coffee on, and her insistence on talking about where to put a box of crackers when I was trying to minimize the damage to things was my last straw. I didn’t know what I needed, but with everything spread out having been whipped off my desk, half of which needed to dry I just knew I needed to get out and I needed to get out 15 minutes ago. So I did. And by the time I reached the end of the driveway, with headphones in and the world turned off I could begin to breathe again.

I guess the issue is I just don’t know when I’ll get a break in the next few months; March break is fast approaching, which means 11 days of my mom being in the house, then 4 day weekends for easter and the likely family gatherings that go along with it, the May 24 long weekend, which my extended family gathers for, and then a month of my mom on edge doing report cards, before being home again for 10 weeks. How am I supposed to establish a routine for myself when others get in the way. I’m not a morning person; hell I’m highly tempted to tell my mom not to talk to me before 6pm during March break. I’m also fairly certain I’ll be saying no to anything family related. Hell, I spend the better part of Christmas alone in my Aunt’s the basement; too many people were micromanaging who got food, wandering in and out of the kitchen, and right when I was about to actually get something to eat my cousin’s boyfriend walked in. Cue everyone jumping up and back into the kitchen to greet him & get him food. No one noticed that I disappeared for at least an hour. Well, not no one. My autistic cousin came down and was asking why someone was crying. He never even came into the room I was in, but it was a weird moment for me. I guess I never realized he was so in tune to his environment that he could pick up the change in my breathing like that (I wasn’t actively crying at this point). The year before his sister wound up on a psych hold after our families Christmas thing. I think it’s best I stay away for a while. I can’t pretend everything’s okay anymore, my parents can make up lame excuses because neither of them sees what’s really going on with their children. Hell, my mom jokes about the fact that I’ve cut, and neither of them noticed their 12 year old with self-inflicted bruises. Hell, I had camp counsellors more concerned about my emotional wellbeing; and they were really just trying to cover their asses with regards to potential bullying.